221 Shades Of A Sociopath
by benadick-cumberbum
Summary: Dr. John Watson falls deeply in love with Sherlock Holmes as they investigate and solve crimes.He cannot help but attempt to express his love. But when Moriarty tries to attack Sherlock, John becomes sadder at each beating Holmes finds himself hn will do anything to protect his love,even if it means surrendering himself to the pure evil man, Moriarty, himself. **slash&mild lemon
1. Chapter 1 - forbidden scent

ANNOUNCEMENT: excuse this really short chapter, the rest will be longer! (i hope)

please review, positive or negative would both be happily accepted thank you :) idk if i should continue with this story or not :')

disclaimer: i do not own Sherlock or the rights to Sherlock, you get the idea ykno

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Nothing but a slight hum and some sort of soft mumble was heard whilst I stood there, facing upwards and staring into his deep blue eyes, becoming lighter as the sun hit his face directly. Glancing at his lovely, full lips and then back up at his eyes, he abruptly looked down to catch my gaze. His stare was intense and frightening, and at that, I couldn't help but become so warm in my face that I had to almost instantly turn away so he couldn't see me flush a fair ruby.  
A slight mumble was heard, and no more than that. but I didn't understand what it had said because i could not help but be so focused on the wallpaper pattern and the marks he had imprinted onto it. Spray paint, knives ,what else has he used to destroy Mrs Hudson's beautiful wallpaper? has she noticed that he had ruined the wall?

Suddenly two hands had a strong grasp on my shoulders and upper arm that I couldn't help but let out a slight whimper. I hadn't noticed that I was so tense until I relaxed as I turned to see who had caused me to let out the childish sound.  
"WATSON," he exclaimed as he shook me twice. "DID YOU GET EVEN _ONE_ WORD OF WHAT I WAS SAYING?" his eyes held some sort of fear in them.  
"y-yes, Sh-Sh-Sherlock." _Why are you so frightened, by him?_ My subconscious glares at me. And, as a first, I agree.  
"Um, yes Sherlock. I was listening. You spoke about how this isn't like any ordinary case that we-" I trailed off once I saw the look on his face. His jaw set into a hard clench, I knew I ought to stop talking.  
"John, stop biting your lip please." His voice stern and god dammit, it made me obey him without hesitation. "Thank you. Now, shall we head off to the scene?"  
I nod.

His sweet, tobacco and cologne smell filled the taxi and I couldn't help but take complete lung-filled breaths during the journey until the scent became regular to me and it was then forgotten.  
"Where are we going for this one, Sherlock?" I asked quite innocently trying not to interrupt his deep thoughts too much.  
"hmm, you never seem to listen, now do you?" I could hear the smile creeping up on his face as he spoke. "So therefore, I will not give you the satisfaction of telling you. You can see upon arrival." The right corner of his lip was curled up ever so slightly as he turned to face me. I love the laid-back side of Sherlock Holmes. It makes him seem so much more youthful. But that side of him was swiftly taken away by the more superior, and he was once again staring out the window for the rest of the journey.

On his command, I started hurriedly scrambling out of the taxi, noticing that Sherlock had gotten out in one swift motion. Then I finally knew our destination. But, why here? Sherlock hates other people with a passion so why would he want to go in the most crowded area of the city, the heart of London? _Because of a case, you idiot, he wants to investigate a new case_, my subconscious hisses. Though he has always mentioned that he would like to go here sometime. Enjoy the view of all the idiotic people who are in one of the most sophisticated cities. I remember his saying something along those lines.

Walking through the over-crowded paths, I notice his scent once again. I breathe it in sparingly, it makes me want to pounce on him and smell him for eternity. I'm glad that I insisted he lead the way so now he won't be suspicious as of why am lured to him, suddenly I notice that I and rapidly moving faster towards him – SHIT.  
"Pull yourself together, John," he laughs as his hand extends outwards to help me up. I grip it and he swings me upward, and I hastily try to find my balance on my feet, but he pulls me into a tight, one armed hug and stares into my eyes and they seem to hold a frightening glare, so I look away shyly. He releases the grip he had on me and brushes my shoulders before grasping them.  
"Let's go and find the scene, shall we?" his voice filled with excitement. I nod joyfully. And before I knew it, we were on our way again, Sherlock walking ahead leading us through the swarm of people who surround us.

2:00 pm and Sherlock still hasn't found the exact location. _Sherlock Holmes, lost?_ It sounds almost completely impossible. Sherlock knows everything about London and surrounding cities, heck, even the whole country and beyond. So how is it possible that the Sherlock Holmes is stuck here, spinning in circles looking like a lunatic whilst people stand aside frowning in confusion. It doesn't make any sens-  
oh. Ooooh. He is not lost, fuck, how could I be so oblivious. I've known this man for 5 odd years and I am still confused about this marvellous beast. _Of course he is not lost, you imbecile. He is putting himself in the victim's shoes. _How could I be so idiotic as to even assume that the one and only **Sherlock Holmes **were lost? I am still compelled by his beauty, from his brown locks to his long, slender legs.  
"Right, we are done with this part of the investigation. Now, let's see the victim." The sensibility in his voice still over-ruled by the joy.  
"And where is this victim, may I ask?"  
"Molly has it. Let's be off to make it in good time, yes?" _it_? What does he mean by _it_? He notices my frown and he mimics it, tilting his head to one side. I nod to agree with his prior question, then his smile reappears on his face, he turns on his heels and he's off once again, almost galloping with glee. I pick up my pace to walk beside him. As he looks down at me, his large, eye wrinkling smile appears on his face. _Haven't seen that smile in a while. _But I like it.

His hair ruffle completely takes me by surprise but I am whole heartedly mesmerised.  
But before I know it, we're out of the taxi again and walking towards the hospital.  
"John, may I have your phone for a moment?"  
"Um, what for, Sherlock?"  
He comes to a complete halt. "Now, what are you trying to hide from me? I'd understand if you had por-"  
"OH GOD NO. Sherlock. No. I do not. Just, argh, here. Take it." I hold out the phone and he bends down to be eye level with me. He subtly grabs a hold of the phone and pulls it out of my reach.  
"Thank you" he breathes. I stand there, eyelids closed, taking in his lovely breath of cinnamon, until I feel his large hand push against my back, easing me to walk forwards. His hands so gentle, he walks with grace. How could such a horrible and cold hearted person be so, majestic? And at that moment, I realised how.  
It is not because of his upbringing, though his parents were very nice and elegant when I met them.  
It is for no other reason than this:  
He is not a horrible, cold hearted person.  
How could one be cold hearted if they care? Sherlock Holmes cares. About his parents, his brother and, surprisingly, even me.  
He is **not** a psychopath how others describe him, oh no.  
Instead, he is a sociopath. And a high functioning one at that. And best of all, he is mine.

Walking into the hospital, I wore a great smile as I looked up at him. We caught each other's stare and my smile must have been somewhat contagious that he began to beam his large, eye wrinkling smile. This is how I liked him the most. Just like this. Perfect.  
I felt complete walking through the corridors of the hospital with Sherlock. Everyone who walked past seemed almost frightened by him, they moved aside, practically hugging the wall when their eyes met his. I'm still very unsure why though.  
I was just overwhelmed to be in Sherlock's presence. _He doesn't think of you the way you think of him._ My subconscious is most likely right, but I should still try and enjoy his company as much as possible. Who would possibly want a brilliant mind like him to shake free of their grasp? Definitely not me.


	2. Chapter 2 - unbearable longing

Second chapter ahhhhhhh yay.

the third should be up tomorrow/the day after.

Please review and such if possible, thank you :)

DISCLAIMER: i do not own any rights to sherlock yadayadayadayada you get the idea.

enjoy

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"Molly" Sherlock exclaimed, he sounded somewhat relieved. Oh no, was he disappointed that he had to spend all that time with me alone? Does he dislike me? _Most likely_. Shut up, argh I cannot stand my subconscious any longer. Though I was the one to bring up the possibilities. Hmm.

Casually, Sherlock took both his scarf and jacket off in what seemed to me as one swift, flowing movement. How does he do that? How do such little tasks that he must do leave me so, so breathless?

I hadn't noticed that I was still firmly situated there in my stood up position, staring into thin air until he had snapped his long, thin fingers in front of my face. Startled, I jumped backwards and his reflexes took a hold of him and his hand was suddenly cradling my head as I leant backwards into his palm.

"We wouldn't want our top doctor to severely injure himself, now would we?" he grinned. "Now, Molly. Where is it?" he turned to face Molly. Her face had gone a light red once she heard her name. But there he said it again. What is _it_?

Molly took Sherlock over to a table that had a seemingly lumpy tablecloth thrown over it. That is _it_. It must be. That is what Sherlock has been talking about. Instinct hit me and before I knew it, I was walking towards the table Molly and Sherlock were leaning over. I could hear their faint whispers, but they could hear my breath. Sherlock instantly looked up towards me then just as quickly turned to Molly.

"Thank you." He mumbled as he gave Molly a soft pat on the shoulder and before I was able to see what it was, the table was nowhere to be seen.

"Sherlock, what is it?"

"What is what, Watson?"

"What was on that table? What is the '_it'_ that you have been talking about this whole time?" I sounded demanding. _Yes this will get answers from him_, my subconscious grins.

"All in good time, dear Watson. All in good time." He put on his jacket and scarf just as swiftly as he had taken them off, and with a swoosh of his jacket, he led me out of the room.

Walking towards a waiting taxi, I suddenly stopped. He walked a few feet more before he realised.

"John, are you coming?" he sounded frightened. Was he scared that I will leave him? Impossible.

"I will. But first I would like to know what _'it'_ is." He slowly paced towards me and bent down so his eyes were level with mine.

He looked into one eye, and then into the next, frowning in confusion.

"Why are you so intrigued? Why do you want to know?"

"I am your partner so therefore I believe that I should know what is happening in our investigations." He noticed that I got choked up on those words, and suddenly his face returned to its delightful self as he became more relaxed.

"Tonight, John. I would love to sit down and talk to you about it tonight. But right now, a taxi awaits our presence. So let us be off on our way." With his breath the smell of strawberries and cinnamon, how could I refuse?

7:00 pm and I'm already wanting to go home and lay with Sherlock in his bed. My head rested upon his bare chest, breathing in every inch of his lean body. My arms surrounding his slender strugture and his right arm around my back and up, his hand stroking and twisting my hair. Oh just the thought of being with him made me grin.

"Why the large smile?" Sherlock laughs. But even at that subtle giggle, I couldn't help but stare at his marvellous, outstretched lips. They seemed as though they were so stretched out, reaching from ear to ear, and the way his eyes wrinkle at the sides, oh that's one of the many things I love about him. His smile, his laugh, his scent- oh god his scent. I could inhale it for the rest of my li-

"John, how many times do I have to tell you? Concentrate. We are already home. Dammit, Watson." The humour still remaining in his voice.

My attempt of getting out of the taxi this time seemed smoother, but then glancing over in Sherlock's direction I notice that he is already by the door being greeted with a hug by Mrs. Hudson. How?! He does not seem human, and he can't possibly be. Though he is, and I'm glad because I would not want to have fallen in love with a robot. Though, that may have turned out rather nicely still.

"Good evening, Mrs Hudson."

"Oh, John. Thank god you're back; I was getting worried about you."

"Mrs Husdson, I can help but be confused as to why you are still worried about me after all these years?" I ask in anticipation.

"I was worried that you wouldn't come back."

"As though I'd been injured? How would I get injured on this job, I have Sherlcok here to protect me from any harm." And I knew he would protect me. Because he cared.

"Oh no, oh silly John. No, it is not that. I worry that you will leave Sherlock's side. He needs an assistant. He needs someone to talk to as he walks, and I am glad that you have not left him, my dear."

"I know, I know." Her soft, delicate hand patting my back twice as I walked out, heading upstairs to the comfort of Mr Holmes.

Walking through the door, a sudden waft of Sherlock was sent my way. And fucking hell, it was delicious. I wanted him right then and there, in attempt to prevent shock to the fragile man, I tried to restrain myself. He was seated comfortably in my seat, sliding his shoulder to rest onto his finely crafted violin. His reflection faintly glowing on the polished wood.

"Would you be so kind as to run a warm bath for me? It's been a long day." A bath. Now that's something we can do together. He can tell me all about the investigation and we could have a joyous time.

Hastily, I made my way to the bathroom, turning both valves until lovely warm water spewed out of the tap and met with its fate, the white marble that makes up the bath.

Bach, oh the wonders he brings. The whole room filled with a beautiful violin solo from Sonata no. 1. Sherlock never stops going on about how marvellous this sonata is, and I agree. Although I haven't even heard of Bach before I had met Sherlock.

His arms fallen to his sides, violin and bow in hand, Sherlock stares out the window with a face that is full of grief.

"That, that was beautiful. Play that more often."

"No need to be ironic towards me, John." The sadness in his voice projected to the empty spaces of the room.

"No, honestly. That was lovely and you play it in such a perfect way. It would make me feel, comforted at night if I were to fall asleep to that song. You know, knowing that you're the one playing." I mumble. And at that, he turns to face my way, and he grabs my arm and drags me towards our chairs. He pushes me backwards onto mine and he slowly eases his way into his.

With a quick whip of an extension to his arms, he brings his hands together and places his fingers under his chin. The typical Sherlock Holmes pose.

"I feel as though you are keeping something from me." He softly uttered.

"Oh really? Like what?" Oh, I'm quite good at this. I could keep this up all night.

"I'm not sure. I can't read you like I used to any more. We've just become so, close. There is nothing more for me to detect apart from when you're not telling me everything. Spill, why don't you?"

Us, so close? He can't detect anything? OH MY HEART IS POUNDING WITH GLEE. _Keep it cool, keep it fucking cool, John. _

"I'd rather not share my personal thoughts with such a close acquaintance. I do apologise, Sherlock."

"Acquaintance?" A frown develops on his face, he looks extremely confused.

"Is that not what we are? My thoughts were that we were partners in solving crime. Do you object with that statement?"

"I just thought that we were more. I call you 'John' for a reason. I guess I was just wrong about u-" wait what?! The one and only SHERLOCK FUCKING HOLMES thought that there was "more" between us?!

"Really?!" the excitement in my voice completely over –ruled the seriousness that I attempted to show in my voice, and I ended up sounding more childish than ever. He stayed seated for a little while longer, staring at me with his head cocked to one side and his fingers supporting the weight of his head as he leant forwards.

"Come with me." He whispered softly before hopping out of his seat and grasping my arm. _Happily,_ my subconscious wearing a large, eye wrinkling smile. He must have gotten it from Sherlock. I couldn't help but smile an incredibly lame smile as I noticed that he was leading me to the bathroom.

I glanced up to see his beautiful eyes once more, and they were already focused on me as we stood outside the bathroom door. A light glistened in his eyes as the corners of his lips began to curl up. He waited there for a few seconds, as though he was a dog waiting for a command. I nodded my head once and he smiled radiantly as he placed his hand on the door knob. This was it. The moment I had been waiting for ever since I had met this man. His eyes escaped my gaze for only a moment while he found the door knob and he then turned his glance back up at me. Oh the anticipation. I was ready. I was ready for the bath we would take together. I was ready to be with him. And I was so ready to have him tonight. _What else does this man have in store for me tonight?_ That question lingering in the back of my mind. The longing I have for this man, no words can describe how much I would've loved to have him in the bathroom, I was not able to wait a moment longer.

My heart was pounding, trying to escape the prison that was my ribcage. He swung the door open whilst our eyes were still locked to each other's. A large grin spread across my face and I couldn't help but smile as well.  
Simultaneously, we turned to face the bathroom and-  
oh no, SHIT.


End file.
